


platonic?

by deadbeats (ricefields)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, M/M, they are in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:36:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27710812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ricefields/pseuds/deadbeats
Summary: It started with a simple kiss on the cheek back in the car.
Relationships: Bokuto Koutarou/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 6
Kudos: 39





	platonic?

It started with a simple kiss on the cheek back in the car, bubbly pop love song is playing in the background. Koutarou tilted his phone screen upwards, been meaning to take a brief video for Jackal's instagram story when Atsumu's face creeping in from the edge. He kissed his slightly flushed cheek once, twice, then grinned toothily when he pulled back.

Koutarou could only giggle in lieu of a response.

“What are you doing, Tsumtsum,” he wheezed, still breathless from the peck, his gaze shifted to the person beside him. “'m taking a video,” he said.

“Dunno,” Atsumu's eyes are crescents, mouth stretched in a gleeful smile. “You smell nice. Let's go home. Take the video later.”

And who was Koutarou to say no to that?

Their shared apartment is four blocks away from the gym. It is not so big for housing two six-footer men, but it is enough- warm and homey, messy in the way only a lived-in place could be.

The door opens and closes with a soft slam- courtesy to Koutarou's hand gripping the handle when Atsumu is not as patient. Koutarou lets Atsumu crowd in on him, his back against the wall. Atsumu's lips are open and warm on his, and Koutarou blinks his eyes open to see the fall of his lover's lashes against his ruddy cheeks.

Koutarou answers to the kiss, lips nibbling and teeth sinking lightly on the plush of his bottom lip, both hands on Atsumu's hips and maneuvers both of them further into the unit.

Their gym bags lay forgotten in front of their door. The lamps are still off, and in their place moonlight streaming in from the ceiling-high glass windows, lighting up the stoneless path that leads to their bedroom.

They stumble into the dimly lit room and land on their bed in a heap of limbs, Atsumu almost feverishly zips off his marigold Jackal's jacket and shed his cotton shirt and sweatpants off, leaving him bare and lineless. His eyes are gazing at the clothed body underneath him hungrily, and he leans down to kiss Koutarou square on the mouth.

Atsumu always move with some sort of a desperation, a hunger- to take what's been given to him, and to give back as much as he receive, if not more.

So eager to give.

So eager to please.

Koutarou meets him halfway, hands cupping his jaw to keep him in place. Atsumu's slender fingers scramble on the hem of his matching jacket, pushing it down and off of him, almost manic in the way he pull his t-shirt up and places his palms on his chest.

“Easy, Tsumtsum,” he whispers in a break to breathe, thumb rubbing the apple of his cheek. His eyes meet his, black swallows the irises and leaving only rings of golden in its wake.

Atsumu groans when Koutarou maps his skin with his mouth and lips and teeth, cherry red marks bloom on his pale skin. His hands creep downwards and find their rest on his hips, acting as an anchor for him when he starts to writhe on their bed when Koutarou attends to his length.

“You're still soft from last night,” he whispers, feeling himself starting to lose his mind a little seeing the man underneath him shivering and flushed all over. He hasn't found his release yet, a thin silvery thread oozing from his tip and pooling on his stomach. He croaks out his name, and Koutarou finds his unbecoming.

Atsumu gasps and Koutarou bites in his own groan when he enters him, eyes fixated on his lover's face. His palms on the back of his knees bending his legs down, pressing them into the soft bedding because he knows that Atsumu _can_ , that Atsumu _will_ accept _anything_ Koutarou has to offer.

Koutarou loses himself in the hot of his mouth, pretty lips round in the shape of his name- _Kou, Kou, Kou_ – and he finds his peace in whispering his name on the shell of his ear, teeth biting lightly.

_'Tsumu, 'Tsumu, 'Tsumu._

Atsumu reaches his peak first with a long, low moan- finger grasping his silver mane in a silent plea for _stop_ , or more, more, _more._

And who is Koutarou to deny him _that?_

**Author's Note:**

> i saw [this stunningly sweet meme redraw](https://twitter.com/kuehjpg/status/1325075796822614016) and i had to. stan these big titties men with bigger hearts! [crowd cheers]


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